The Winner Takes It All
by Alex E. Andras
Summary: A silence fell over the table again, though this time it was due to both of his son’s staring at each other, waiting for the other to make his move'. It's all out war to see who gets the extra cookie. One Shot.


A birthday present for angel_death_dealer, because she loves the Wee!Chesters, and because Sam's kicked puppy look was hounding me xD. All mistakes are my own, because I should probably get another beta that just angel_death_dealer so if I write secret fics again I can get it checked over.

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The Winner Takes It All

The check arrived once the table was cleared. A pretty young brunette setting it quietly onto the table close to John's arm and then, with a sly wink to the boys, sliding a plate onto the table with something they hadn't ordered on it.

John for his part ignored the three cookies that beckoned the Winchesters from the centre of the table, continuing to browse through the local newspaper as he had since they'd originally given the waitress their orders. The silence that filled their table was the continued one of his sons eating, and John relished it happily, idly looking through the pages of the ragged paper, eyes occasionally finding something that looked to be almost interesting.

He didn't even look at the bill, just slipped one hand into his pocket and handed Sam his wallet, allowing his youngest to eagerly count out the correct change and the tip the girl had obviously earned, glancing over to Dean to check he'd gotten it right before slipping the wallet back onto the table in front of his father.

John didn't move except to turn the page of the paper, his eyes not shifting from the type, and a silence fell over the table again, though this time it was due to both of his son's staring at each other, waiting for the other to move for the cookie still stranded on the plate.

Sam's hand reached out, setting the bills he'd counted out onto the plate beside the treat, his eyes flickering nervously to Dean. The small hand hovered for a fraction of a second too long, and before he could drop it onto the cookie, Dean's foot had shot out under the table, connecting solidly with Sam's shin and making the table jerk as Sam let out a yelp, his hand jerking in on its own accord and he brought his leg up to rub at his smarting shin, glaring at Dean.

Dean grinned back, eyes not leaving Sam's as his hand crept up from under the table, resting on the plastic for a second.

There was a sudden slap of flesh on flesh as Dean's darting hand was intercepted by Sam's, and fingers entwined, knuckles turned white as both boys seemingly tried to break the others fingers.

John's eyes flickered, not looking at his sons locked in their silent battle, instead landing on the brunette stood at the counter, her expression amused as she watched the fight.

John's eyes returned to the paper again as the table gave another jerk, though no following yelp came from Sam this time. John didn't need to look to know that Dean was biting his lip, refusing to let out the yelp that should have accompanied the pain he felt as Sam's booted foot made contact with his knee.

The table shivered now, no accompanying sound, but it was enough to tell John that his son's had given up on trying to break the others fingers and had broken apart, hands flat on the table, expressions closed, refusing to break eye-contact to even glance at the biscuit between them. On occasion John would have joined in the fun by now, would have snagged the cookie whilst his boys were fighting only for them to silently ally together and simultaneously attack him – a battle that would be taken back to the motel they were currently staying in until his sons were tossed; exhausted, onto a single bed and he dropped onto his own, laughing and dialling for a pizza for a late night snack – but today his shoulder was still smarting from a lucky throw by a ghost, and he wanted to reach Pastor Jim's house that night.

There was another slap of flesh on flesh, and a slight rattle as Dean deflected Sam's reaching hand and knocked the plate, causing it to skitter on the table and still, rocking slightly, close to the edge. Both boys paused, John could sense them looking at the plate, although there was still a good inch between it and a swift and sudden drop to the floor, and then both gazes swung around to look at him.

His only response to turn the pages of the paper. He'd reached the sports section now, but he was willing to let the boys continue, and they couldn't see the eyebrow he'd raised from behind the newspaper anyway.

There was a low and dull _thunk_, and the table shook again. Dean had reached over whilst Sam's attention had been on their father and brought his head down to meet the table. Sam let out a mild grunt of pain, whipping his head up again – the quick movement causing a breeze that bent the newspaper inwards slightly – and then he was moving; swiftly grabbing up a fork that was left at the final setting of the table and jabbing it into Dean's hand, a quick smile of satisfaction at Dean's half-yell and glare as he rubbed his smarting hand.

There was a final jerk of the table, and Sam gave a strangled yelp as Dean's boot connected solidly with his shin. Both boys looked quickly to John, still hidden behind the paper, and by the time they were facing one another again, Dean was holding the cookie triumphantly.

John didn't need to look to know that his youngest had now adopted the look. That sorrowful, orphaned looked as though someone had just kicked his one-eyed-three-legged puppy down the stairs. John had yet to see anyone who was able to withstand the look - it had been used several times to their advantage in getting answers when a tearful child flashed someone that look moments before his father came blustering in to find his lost child, and then casually worm information out of his son's 'rescuer' - women melted and practically adopted Sam on the spot, and he knew for a fact that it worked on hardened, weathered men such as Bobby Singer, who gave the impression of having a stone heart encased in diamond. John was unable to look at Sammy when the look was being played out, lest he give the boy anything he wanted, and Dean's only way of ignoring the look right now was to swiftly stuff the entire cookie into his mouth and then stare at the ceiling, jaw working furiously to remove the offending treat.

The look lowered to the table, hidden beneath Sam's too long bangs and finally John set down the newspaper, fished his keys from his pocket and finally glanced at the check to be sure Sam had indeed given the correct money before he stood, gruffly ordering the boys to follow him, they had several more hours left before they reached Pastor Jim's house that night.

As they left John had to bite back the smirk and turn his complete attention to the parking lot as the brunette handed Sam a large chocolate cookie.


End file.
